


This Is Where We Stand As One

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [216]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Boys In Love, Caretaking, Domestic Avengers, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Stephen Strange, M/M, Protective Tony Stark, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23217787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: In which there is vampire Stephen, domestic Avengers, a little bit of torture, and a whole lot of comfort.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [216]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1118655
Comments: 13
Kudos: 123





	This Is Where We Stand As One

Stephen’s jaw was clenched, locked into a harsh, aching grind of teeth. He didn’t breathe. He didn’t need to. Doing so now would be his undoing. A thirst burned his throat, both familiar and hellish, tongue clumsy in his mouth, lips tingling with the remembered warmth...Stephen slammed his head none too gently against the concrete wall behind him. The pain was good. Grounding. Different to the sensation crawling across his skin.

Movement.

Somewhere behind the heavy iron door, people stirred and whispered and argued. They were too quiet to pick up the intricacies of the conversation, Stephen’s superior hearing impeded by the rushing sound in his head. Saliva flooded his mouth as he centered in on the subtle beating of hearts, the mechanism beautifully pumping blood through soft, vulnerable veins…

Stephen groaned lowly. His fangs, which had slipped out three days prior, seemed to throb with want. His stomach twisted harshly, sending stabs of pain through his abdomen and chest. They were smart, using Stephen’s own biology to torture him. He knew they were a cult of magic users whose existence had been denied by Kamar-Taj. He knew they needed the timestone but for some reason also needed him.

He also knew they needed his cooperation and they were hoping that with time, something akin to Stockholm Syndrome would make him amenable to their plans. They were so very kind to him after all…unless he was asking for blood.

They’d even removed the chains doused in holy water.

Stephen’s wrists still bore the angry red marks and he would continue to do so until he fed.

It was a good plan. Except the part where the torture of starvation was any form of motivation.

Really, he should thank Dormammu for gifting him his strong will and brutal pain tolerance.

That wasn’t to say he thought he’d last forever, quite the opposite. Already he could feel his skin cracking and drying without blood to stave off his decomposition. That was alright. Eventually, his captors would realize their mistake and offer him blood. He’d go feral, thirst overcoming what few instincts he had, killing whomever they placed in the room. Stephen wasn’t worried about innocents, knew intimately what an honor they thought it was for him to interact, feed, or whatever else. They didn’t want anyone else involved.

It made Stephen wonder yet again who exactly they thought they had caught.

The voices grew louder, closer and Stephen felt himself tense in anticipation. His eyes zeroed in on the handle across the room, mouth falling open and inhaling sharply, trying to catch the scent of whoever was on the other side this time. Stephen’s fingers curled around the nearby chain, hissing at it singed his skin, agony ripping up his arms.

The distraction was barely enough. Stephen didn’t want to attack whoever came through that door. He could last awhile longer yet, or so he liked to think. He knew they were hoping for just that, proof of him going feral so that they could treat him like a mindless beast. That didn’t stop them from being impressed by his restraint. Their stupidity knew no bounds apparently.

Suddenly, Stephen’s entire world imploded. The ground began to shake beneath him, screams pierced his ears, causing him to whimper, and finally a blast with enough power to send the unnecessary air from his lungs and him flying against the opposite wall.

An inhuman howl ripped itself from his throat as his spine arched and twisted, limbs flailing uselessly as agony clawed at his body. Stephen saw bright yellow light for a split second, skin turning to ash, and then his instincts were taking over, vaulting him into a corner where a large piece of the wall created a small shadowed crevice.

Stuffing himself into the space wasn’t easy, his long limbs pulling tightly against his body and head scraping the cement above him. Compared to the feeling of his skin, however, it was hardly noticeable. All of Stephen’s attention was on survival, the blast enough to send his mind into hyperdrive and commit in its entirety on basic animal needs.

His thirst was still a problem, but it was no longer the biggest threat. Though that was temporary, he wasn’t healing because he was so weak. Stephen calculated an estimated three hours maximum before his body gave and he truly perished.

“Stephen?”

The sound of familiar voices, calling out made him flinch. Stephen found himself shoving back further into his tiny shelter, hiding from a threat he was too weak to fight against at the moment, even as his mind valiantly tried to remind him that those voice belonged to safety and home.

“Fuck, where the hell is he?”

Clint, his mind helpfully supplied.

“We’ll find him. That man wasn’t lying. This is their base and there is no way they would have been able to move him out fast enough, especially not during the day.”

Rogers. Stephen almost called out, almost made himself known, his mind finally starting to override his instincts when something far more concerning broke through his concentration. Stephen, when he briefly opened his mouth could _taste_ them.

His jaw clenched and fingers dug into the floor beneath him, turning it to dust. He desperately needed blood, if he wanted to survive but his control was paper thin now that burns peppered his skin. He’d attack them and drain them dry without a second thought. Which meant Tony could very well be in danger…from him.

Helplessness rose up like a tidal wave. Stephen had been trying so hard these past days not to think about Tony or Wong or the Avengers coming to his rescue. Had tried not to let treacherous hope poison his ability to stay calm and collected. Still…Stephen had dreamed when he hadn’t been to hungry to sleep.

Memories of their last evening together, pressed close in bed, gentle kisses sliding across chests and arms and hands. The low chuckles and quiet well-meaning arguments. The adoration in warm brown eye that promised forever in the way only humans could. Stephen had been in love. Had let the realization flow over him like smooth little river, relentless and peaceful all at once.

He remembered the warm, homely feeling of blood filling his mouth and the quiet little gasp that Tony always made when he bit down on his neck. Stephen recalled in excruciating detail the euphoria that swept through him in a-

Stephen groaned, trying hard not to think about how hungry he was, how his fangs pierced the skin of his lips, teasing him with slow, stale blood. He would not hurt them, not for anything in the world and Stephen found himself closing his eyes and praying the Avengers, Tony would simply leave him behind.

“You hear that?”

A long pause.

“Tony, get over here now.”

Stephen grit his teeth as two hypnotizing heartbeats entered the broken and dusty room. “Shit. Cap…if he was in here-”

“Don’t,” Rogers cut him off, though he too sounded doubtful. “Start searching the perimeter. It’s a small room but the blast might have tossed him past any one of these walls.”

The words, though loud in his ears, meant little after he heard Tony’s name. Stephen’s focus was outward, listening, waiting for the familiar sound of his lover’s suit thumping against the concrete. He had no intention of coming out of hiding but…he wanted to hear him, once more.

Stephen wasn’t quite so lucky.

“Strange?”

Eyes flying open and a warning snarl slipping from his lips, Stephen glared at the kneeling form of Barton in front of the little entrance of his shelter. The man, to his credit, didn’t even flinch, just stared at him with wide disbelieving eyes, “you like rough Strange. They really did a number on you eh?”

Stephen nearly sobbed as his control was tested. Blood rushed through Barton’s veins, tantalizingly close, heart thumping a steady, strong rhythm in the man’s chest and oh how he yearned to just reach inside him and-

“Back away,” Stephen whispered, voice hoarse and raw from disuse. “Get back Barton. please.”

Before Barton could reply a firm hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him backwards, “go wait outside. Tell Tony where we are.”

He left without a word and the opening was filled with Rogers’ larger form, steely blue eyes assessing him wearily. It was much easier to resist the call of his blood, the scent that wafted off him always came with a chemical tinge that usually made his nose curl. This time, hungry as he was, it still made his mouth water.

Rogers let out a heavy sigh and settled on his backside, looking all the world like he was sitting down for a picnic, “I know talking is difficult for you but do you think you could give me an idea of how good your control is? How much blood you’ll need to get better?”

This was something Stephen had always appreciated about Rogers. Besides Tony, he had been one of the few to learn everything he could about vampirism. Stephen had been confused at first until the man had hesitantly explained, that he wanted to be prepared. Not in a defensive way but in that inherent caretaking way that was so typical of Captain America. He had earned Stephen’s respect for that and had gone a long way in earning Tony’s forgiveness. Now it looked as though it would come in handy.

“I-” Stephen broke off, coughing. He was hurt worse than he thought and that coupled with the hunger made everything more difficult, even remembering words. “I could drain three of you and still want more…I…I think I’d go feral at the first drop. I’d kill all of you.”

Stephen expected Rogers to be horrified. The man had never even seen him feed before but instead he just rubbed at his chin, considering, “So, we just have to make sure you don’t take too much.”

Just like that Rogers began curling up his sleeve and Stephen watched in wide-eyed disbelief.

“Don’t. Please.”

“We can’t move you until the sun goes down,” Rogers explained calmly. “We didn’t bring anything that will block it, even if we stuffed you into one of Tony’s suits, it would take hours to get here. You need blood before then and we have it.”

Stephen felt a tingling sensation in his fangs, leaned closer as the wrist was bared.

“We’ll start with me since you already don’t like my blood all that much. I’ll stay out here in the sun so if you can’t control yourself, I can hopefully use my strength to drag you out until you let go. Sound like a plan?”

Closing his eyes again Stephen forcibly pressed back against the wall, head hitting the cement over top, yet again, “no, I can’t Rogers. I won’t-”

A familiar clanking sound and the beating of a heart Stephen knew better than his own rushed into the room. Relief flowed through him like a wave, Tony’s blood practically a lullaby to his senses, the promise of safety and relief.

Rogers shifted back and Tony was there, suit retracted into the housing unit on his chest, warm brown eyes taking him in with a desperate glint. Without thinking, Tony began to crawl into the space before Rogers could warn him off and Stephen found himself kicking out harshly and shoving Tony back out of the small space.

“Stephen? What the hell?” Tony snapped. Fear and worry coalescing into anger.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Tony, calm down. He’s starving, you have to give him some space.”

“Shit,” like the flip of a switch, Tony’s voice shifted into something softer and peered over at him anxiously. “Stephen? How badly are you hurt?”

It was much easier to answer to that voice. To respond to the adoration and love that was indicated by the way his heartbeat picked up, “burns, starving,” he managed to choke out.

“Alright, ok, we’ve got you.”

“I figured I’d get him to feed from me first. I should be strong enough to control him-”

“No.”

Tony’s eyes turned on him, “Stephen, this isn’t up for debate. You’re doing it.”

“No.”

“Strange, its alright. I want to.”

“No.”

“Give us a minute.”

Rogers hesitated for a moment before getting to his feet. Stephen heard him wander from the room and begin explaining to the Avengers, all of whom were waiting outside. He willfully ignored the emotion that swelled up inside him.

“Hey,” Stephen focused back on Tony, who sat in front of him, sad little smile on his lips, “I’m so sorry it took us this long to find you.”

“Not your fault.”

Tony didn’t believe him. Stephen wasn’t surprised.

“Stephen…I need you to let us take care of you ok? I really need us to go home once the sun is down so I can keep you in bed and convince myself you’re alright. Maybe that’s selfish but I’d really appreciate it if you’d trust me and let that happen.”

Swallowing thickly, Stephen really looked at Tony for the first time since he’d arrived. His lover looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, complexion pale, and lines deep in his face. His eyes too betrayed the agony he’d been in, waiting to find Stephen, to bring him home. It was absolutely impossible to deny Tony when he looked like that.

Stephen nodded slowly. Tony offered another shaky smile, “thank you.”

Rogers appeared, no doubt listening in and immediately went to his knees. The man braced one hand on the cement block next to him, prepared to use it as leverage to pull away if Stephen lost control and carefully stretched his arm out and into Stephen’s little sanctuary.

“We’ve got you Stephen, take what you need.”

Staring at the pale skin, Stephen inhaled slowly, let the taste of the man in front of him wash through all of his senses and then he was striking. Moving almost to fast to be seen, he had Rogers’ arm firmly in his grip and his teeth pieced the skin, allowing blood to flood his mouth.

It was _heavenly_.

He fed for a long time, longer than he usually would on a human. Stephen could practically feel the soldier’s blood regenerating, trying to keep up with the loss. He didn’t care, not even when fingers carded through his hair, two voices low and encouraging. Only when the arm started to be tugged away did a low rumble travel through his chest, warning.

The hunger hadn’t faded. His skin no longer ached and peeled but his mouth still felt dry, his stomach hollow, and his mind weary. Fear of losing his food source yet again made him resist when the voices became insistent. Then, just like that, the arm was torn from his mouth and he was swinging around, looking to follow, only to jump back as sunlight burned him from the outside.

Rogers was wrapping up his arm and Stephen blinked rapidly, guilt churning in his gut. He didn’t look mad, not even fazed as he carefully wrapped up the torn puncture marks. Tony was smiling a little, trying to shush him and Stephen realized there was a low whine coming from the back of his throat. If he could blush, he certainly would have.

“You’re up Rhodes.”

Rhodey took Cap’s place, kneeling. He poked his head into the space and offered a confident grin, “heard you were looking for a three-course meal Strange.” The man’s easy familiarity made the tension dissipate rapidly. Without any fanfare he thrust his own arm out to him, his War Machine suit gone for the moment.

Stephen didn’t hesitate this time, latching on a little bit easier. This was familiar ground. He’d fed from Rhodey several times before, usually when Wong or Tony weren’t available, and the taste of blood was that of comfort and friendship all in one. This was much more palatable and soon enough Tony was there again, rubbing his hand on his back.

When Rhodey began to pull away, much too soon, Stephen let him go with another whine. He was immediately replaced with Clint; whose eyes were weary but curious. Afterwards all the Avengers except Bruce cycled through until once again, Rogers stood at the entrance of shelter.

They had all been accommodating. Had, in some way or another, mentioned how glad they were to find him alive and Stephen believed it, sensed the truth of it in their blood. His thirst, while still present was all that remained of his injuries. Everything had closed up and healed with each knew intake and now it was just matter of drinking enough to get rid of the itch.

Usually it was constant, but Stephen wanted to be rid of it all this time around.

He was far more gentle when he took Rogers’ wrist this time, tongue smoothing over the previous wound until his saliva had healed the worst of it. The man had inhaled sharply, and Tony had chuckled at the soldier’s surprise. Tony stayed through it all, comforting, talking to him and whoever Stephen fed on, explaining. The sound of his voice, droning in the background, slowly brought Stephen back to himself and away from the animal side that had taken over. He fed calmly from Rogers, detected a new note in the blood, something not so far from family and friendship. Trust.

Stephen hummed. Content.

Eventually he let him go of his own free will. Accepted the rag passed to him and watched as Rogers’ and Tony spoke quietly, “thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. We aren’t sure if there will be reinforcements or not, there’s been some chatter on the radio we found. Stay with him and we’ll hold the perimeter. We’ve got you,” Steve looked over at Stephen. “Both of you.”

The man began to walk away and without a word Tony got on his hands and knees and crawled into what little space was left. Stephen huffed, maneuvering until the other man was half on top of him, legs carefully pulled close and out of the sun. Arms wrapped around each other and Tony ended up pressing a chaste, wistful kiss to Stephen’s lips. Unconcerned for the taste apparently.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

Stephen inhaled, didn’t feel the need to drain Tony dry, “Yes. Though a long nap when this is all over…that would be nice.”

Tony chuckled lowly before it died off, “I was so fucking scared when you went missing Stephen. A certain sorcerer and Cloak will be very happy to see you.”

Stephen grimaced at the thought of the lecture waiting for him, “I can’t wait.”

“The others were worried too.”

“I know,” he did. It was a surprise but a pleasant one, to know he’d been accepted so fully into the fold. “Fuck I missed you.”

“Do you want to talk about what they did? What they wanted?”

“Not any time soon,” Stephen answered honestly, nuzzling at Tony’s throat. “I just want to stay here and pretend none of it happened.”

“I think we can manage that.”

**Author's Note:**

> And I'm back to vampire Stephen.
> 
> Feel free to give me more ideas for vampire Stephen, especially if it involves the other Avengers :)


End file.
